The Cottage in the Woods (4 page)

“Yes, sir.” I exhaled, realizing that I had been holding my breath.

“Now, then, do you require accompaniment to your door? It’s the next one on the right.”

“No, sir. I will be fine, sir,” I said, nearly choking on the words. I raised my candle high and stepped off into the darkness, hoping my stride looked confident and purposeful even though I inwardly quailed. I ran my free paw along the wall, as if following a lifeline, all the way to my door, then sighed with relief. My chamber, while dark, seemed a few degrees safer than the inky hallway. I shut the door tightly, then began a careful exploration of every nook and cranny, checking behind the heavy drapes, inside the tall wardrobe, even under the furniture. All I could see was that someone had brought up my trunk and valise. Satisfied at last that nothing lurked in the shadows, I unpacked my few belongings in the dim candlelight, prepared myself for
bed, and climbed between the sheets on the overstuffed mattress. I left the candle burning on the bedside stand, unable to bring myself to extinguish it.

As I lay there, the troubles of the day crowded in on me like birds of prey. I had ruined Mr. Vaughn’s book, gotten lost, been late to dinner, abandoned self-control and run through the hallway with Teddy, made an enemy of Nurse, and come close to losing my job before it started. How could I ever face Papa if I was dismissed? What a disappointment it would be to him, and an embarrassment, if his old friend were forced to let me go. One phrase kept repeating itself in my mind, that dire warning: “My eye will be upon you.” This, taken with the knowledge that Nurse would use anything, be it truth or falsehood, to harm me, left me feeling more alone and friendless than I ever had been in my life. I covered my face with my paws and gave in to bitter tears.

Even so, I knew that I would never hear a word of reproach from Papa. What would he say to me if I could tell him my troubles tonight? The smallest of smiles started on my lips. I could almost hear his voice, deep, jovial, soothing, telling me that all was not lost; that Mr. Vaughn had not yet given up on me; that morning would bring a fresh start and I would surely do better tomorrow. I pictured him in his rocker by the fireplace, his lap robe over his knees, and it seemed to me as if I smelled the sweet, pungent smoke of his pipe. I felt myself tearing up again.

I could not let Papa down. There must be a way—a way I could earn a place of trust with the Vaughns, a way to win out against Nurse’s nefarious accusations. What would it take? I wondered. Probably a long time, if they were going to accept my word over Nurse’s. A long time of doing well and not making
mistakes. It seemed impossible, and yet Papa would want me to try. He’d want me to do my best no matter what. And then I thought of Teddy’s poor, frightened little face, of him being persecuted by Nurse and his parents not even knowing it. Maybe I could be his friend as well as his teacher, and maybe there would be something I could do for him.

And though in this house I had not a single soul to confide in, I did have one place to unburden myself. I wiped away my tears with the back of my paw, and got out of bed. There on the writing desk lay my new journal, a parting gift from Papa, bound in plain brown cloth and locked with a small brass padlock.

I got the tiny key from my shoe and unlocked it, opening it to the first page, blank and patiently waiting for me. Picking up the pen, and dipping it in the ink, I began the habit that has served me so well to this day, lightening my burdens and preserving my memories, that of writing nightly in my journal, my best, and often my only, confidant. It assists me even now as I tell this story, which has since become so clouded by gossip and myth. I have only to reach into my trunk and open one of the old volumes, covers worn and pages curling, to make the years fall away.

I wrote late into that night, until my eyelids drooped, and my heart felt emptied of all its burdens. Then I knelt beside the bed, keeping my eyes open for fear of whatever might be lurking in the dark, and said my prayers. I was faced with the uncomfortable thought of that which I had been taught from cubhood: that one must pray for one’s enemies. I had never had an enemy until now, but with Nurse’s sneering image fresh in my mind, a prayer for her seemed a very bitter pill to swallow. I
grappled with my feelings until my lips grudgingly formed the words “God bless Nurse,” and I mentally choked them down. My mind at peace, I was soon sleeping the sleep of the innocent. I can picture myself now, lying there peacefully, eyes closed, and all unknowing. Little could I have imagined then what challenges lay ahead for me, or what tears I would shed in the times to come.

Despite the fact that I had stayed up so late, I awoke early to the song of a wren outside my window, an anthem of such hopefulness and buoyancy that I immediately threw back the drapes and opened the doors to my little balcony. The air was alive with birdsong. The sun’s golden rays glimmered through the laced tree branches, creating a filigree of blue shadows on the lawn. I breathed in the essence of countless delightful scents borne on the breeze. I began to hum a little tune as I performed my toilet, and was still humming when one of the maids arrived to tell me my breakfast was served in the kitchen. She was a young bear about my size, only very attractive, with a pleasingly pear-shaped frame, and I couldn’t help but compare her to my own flat figure. I thought I would try to make some friendly overture, but she was gone as quickly as she came—before I could ask her to show me to the kitchen. I did not want to venture out again without some guidance, and so I turned to the mirror on the bureau and gave an experimental knock on the corner. “Hello, Mirror?” I asked. “Is anyone there?” I rubbed its surface with my handkerchief, wondering if it could have grown indolent with disuse. “Hello?” I knocked again.

My reflection in the mirror turned to roiling dark clouds, but no other face appeared. Only a disembodied voice croaked, “Go away!” and the mirror went black. I rapped harder on the shiny surface, and said forcefully, “Mirror, I’m afraid I must insist. Wake up.”

“What is the password, then?”

“Password? There is no password. You’re a mirror. You must answer me.”

“There
is too
a password, and you obviously don’t know it, so I don’t have to answer you at all.” And the mirror turned black once more.

“I only wanted directions to the kitchen, for pity’s sake,” I said.

The mirror clouded up again. “You guessed the password!”

“I did? What was it?” I asked.

“To,”
came the answer.

“
To?
That’s not a very good password, is it? Anyone might say it by accident.”

“Yes, well, only those who are rude enough to insist on making inquiries at this hour of the morning.”

“The kitchen, if you please, Mirror.”

Some incoherent grumbling could be heard as the agitated clouds formed into a carnival mask, all black on one side, all white on the other. He was wearing a long, tasseled nightcap and yawning widely. “You must begin by opening your door. Then you must go down the long corridor to the right, like so.” The mirror presented a picture of the corridor. “And you will come to the back staircase.” The mirror presented a view of the staircase. “Turn left at the bottom of the stairs. From there your snout will lead you to the kitchen.

“Or else you should go out of your door and go to the left, then take another left after the portrait gallery.” The mirror presented views of the route. “Go down another set of stairs, take a right, go to the end of that hallway, and open the door.”

“Well, how do I begin? Go right or go left?”

The face raised one imperious black eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s not for me to say. I’m merely presenting both sides.”

“Both sides? Will both answers lead me to the kitchen?”

“No, only one will, but it’s more fair this way.”

“Fair to whom,” I asked, “if one way is true and the other a lie?”

“Why, fair to the lie, of course. But there it is, a fair and evenhanded account. Equal time for opposite views. Now it’s up to you. Good day.”

The savant’s face clouded up again, and then shifted back into my own reflection. Clearly I would get no more information out of him. I went to my door and looked both ways, up and down the corridor. I decided to begin with the first set of directions, going to the right and looking for the back staircase. It did occur to me as I made my way down the corridor that the mirror might have been misleading me on both counts, but having no better choices, I persevered. At the bottom of the stairs, my snout detected the mouthwatering smell of fresh biscuits baking. My senses did indeed lead me directly to the kitchen, where the scene was one of pleasant hubbub.

The first person I encountered was Fairchild, who introduced me to the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gudge. She was an impressive older bear with an air of quiet authority. “Good morning, miss,” she stated perfunctorily. “I hope you’ve found everything to your satisfaction?” Her tone brooked no objection, so I made no complaint about the mirror. She went on
to introduce me to the kitchen staff and various servants who were bustling in and out, and I received curt nods from most of them. As I took in my surroundings, I became aware that Nurse was deep in a conference with several of the housemaids, who were bent over her, listening. There was a little burst of laughter, and then they all looked furtively around at me, quickly turned away, and laughed again. I could just imagine what stories she was making up at my expense, and I felt insulted and angry, but, seeing nothing I could do about it, I tried to ignore them.

Cook, a genial she-bear who kept up a running patter as she worked, pointed her spatula toward a small side table where a place was set for one, and said, “Right over there, miss. Biscuits will be up in a minute, if you’ll be so patient, and well worth waiting for, if I say so myself.”

“Won’t the staff be eating too?” I asked.

“They’ll eat when the morning chores are done.”

“I see,” I replied, and I sat down and surveyed a tall stack of pancakes covered with honey, and a large bowl of fruit, an ample start for the day by any measure. As I ate, I contemplated my solitary status at the little table. I had been warned of this lonely aspect of my vocation: that a governess, while too well educated to be considered one of the servants, could not be considered a part of the family either. Last night’s inclusion at supper had been an act of kindness to welcome me here, but it seemed that, from now on, like any other governess, I must expect to take my meals alone.

I thanked Cook for the lovely breakfast, and asked the pretty little maid, whose name was Betsy, for directions to the schoolroom, which proved to be quite straightforward. My exploration seemed less daunting in daylight, and I found my way without too much difficulty.

Teddy and his mother were waiting for me in the schoolroom. Teddy greeted me warmly with a well-rehearsed “Good morning, Miss Brown,” and a little paw full of flowers.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Vaughn said. “I hope you’ve found everything to your liking.”

“Oh yes,” I responded. “My room is quite the loveliest I’ve ever had. And breakfast was very nice too.”

Mrs. Vaughn smiled warmly and handed me a stack of books. “Here are some textbooks Mr. Vaughn ordered for you,” she said. “And here are some of Teddy’s favorite books as well. You may order more as you need them. There is a catalog included. Just give the list to Mr. Vaughn’s clerk, Mr. Bentley. His office is adjacent to the library. Mr. Vaughn says you are to feel free to use the library during the day. There is a special section of cubs’ books on the lower shelves beside the desk.”

“Thank you. I’m sure that will be more than enough to get us started,” I answered.

“At noon, luncheon will be served here in the schoolroom, if you like,” she said. “Just ring for Betsy. Teddy is to have a short rest after the meal, then you may resume in the afternoon.”

“Very good, madam. If it meets with your approval, I should like to take him out of doors, in the afternoons, weather permitting, for natural history and woodcraft?”